


Everything Burns

by ShippyAngel



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippyAngel/pseuds/ShippyAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events on Edora (One Hundred Days) and staring at a bonfire, Sam face some of her feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Burns

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story. The characters and the TV show Stargate-Sg1 are property of their owners.

_PX1-984 (many light-years away from Earth)_

_0256 Zulu_

* * *

The temperature has dropped dramatically long before the sun set. These humble villagers decided to throw a farewell party for us. I use the cold as an excuse to leave the crowd behind and just appreciate a little loneliness, staring a this huge bonfire they have built to light the surroundings. And if fits my mood so well.

I feel like going on flames. My face is burning red, maybe from the fire going so high, maybe from shame, or containment. Maybe from anger. I'm not sure. Maybe it's hate repressed or it's love suppressed - because these two feelings go both ways, they say. But the reason is not important anyway - the only fact left to know is that the fire burns. And it destroys, corrupts, turns into dust over and over again.

Why am I being so metaphoric anyway?

Well, that's not the problem, either.

The problem itself was never the fire. It's nostalgic and hypnotic and warm, always related to the sinful, forbidden things.. and people. The fire that inspires poets and is known in its smallest details for chemicals. The problem of the fire is the smoke in our eyes: the heat, the redness, the tears. The thing about the fire is that its smoke burns on your skin.

Or maybe that's just me now.

But that's what I feel when I'm around him. That's why I had to leave this party. He was just so close, without noticing the waves of attraction and angst that evaded me. I can't help feeling that he's the fire that just won't stop burning around me. He's been the flames I can't take my eyes off, the warmth that makes me feel like home. And after those one-hundred days, after Laira and everything that happened (and, hopefully, stayed) there, I feel like he's that fucking smoke that will make me cry no matter how many times I blink my eyes to prevent it from happening.

"Carter?" his voice stops the words from forming in my head and I flinch. "What are you doing here?" I'm not facing him but I can't tell his eyes are pitch black and that he's pointing to the crowd. "It's cold." he whispers, running his hands down his arms and back to his shoulders. The tears drown my eyes but I swallow them back thinking of the damage they might do. "Well, sir, it's cold out there too and I wanted to enjoy this bonfire for awhile." I lie (sort of) and I know he can tell but god-damn, for the moment, I just don't care.

He nods and walk closer to me, his shoulder touching mine in a very casual way. We stay in silence for minutes without pretending to go for small-talks because somehow the air between us is openly and undeniably dense. We've known each other for years now; there are things you can tell and it's hopeless to try to pretend it isn't there.

"I better get going," I say, politely, turning my feet to leave, but his fingertips reach my arm so lightly, but hard enough to make it obvious that he wants me to stay where I am. "Sir?".

"Carter, I..." he blows the air out of his lungs trying to calm down. I like him like this: human, without masks; well, mostly. Our eyes meet, reflecting the fire burning and time seems to stop because, for the fastest second, I can't think of anything, I just feel.. feel the fire emanating, the presence of my CO in such an intimate way, his fingers that refuse to leave its place on my skin... "I hate to see you like this."

I have to close my eyes, I have to breathe deep, real deep, and regain my control. Somehow, the atmosphere and everything else stops me from succeeding, which is something very rare, believe me.

"Like what?" I dare and it doesn't sound like me, I know. But I haven't been feeling like myself anyway and I can't really stress over this right now. He probably knows I'm trying to sound dumb but possibly he doesn't care either because he rephrases his former words.

"I hate to see you down like this. Not talking to me, not even looking at me. Just 'yes, sir' or 'nor, sir'." I feel like crying and his face shows me that maybe he's feeling the same. I watch his other fingers forming a punch, not to hurt me, but to restrain himself. And these open moments are so rare between us. It scares me, this openness. It also surprises me; it attracts me. "I hate to be the reason of it."

His hand falls from my arms but his hand stays impossibly close to mine, yet not touching. Teasing, not holding.

"I know you're mad at me." he whispers, we both looking at the horizon, through the flames. "I don't know why but.."

"You don't know why." I say, more of a statement than a question. My voice comes out bitter and I don't want to hide it right now, I don't think I can. He's the one who closes his eyes, the lines on his face looking even more evident. Even more handsome and I can't explain how he's able to do this to me.

"Carter." with this line, I know we're walking the same path, we're talking about the same thing; but without words, always without words. Then again, maybe not always. "You've been avoiding me since..." he looks around, grasping for words. "Edora?"

"How observant of you." I joke, bitterly, and fake a smile but he doesn't laugh back. I didn't expect him to and I choose honest instead. "I know." I look down and think 'what-the-hell'. "But I just can't let go of the fact that... Sir, you wanted to stay there." I look up, then, to the sky, following the drawn stars. He nods, accepting my point of view.

"Then why didn't I?"

I walk away from him a bit, just a few steps away from the fire burning.. steps away from him. "I don't know." I said, raising my shoulders. "Probably because we worked our asses off to get back to you." We're saying too much, I know. Half of me is foreseeing a teasing commentary from him about insubordination but the other part knows another side of Jack O'Neill.

"So, this is it?! You think I'm ungrateful, uh? That I haven't thanked you enough?" his voice is loud and it makes me nervous. "OK, so I haven't thank you YET. But I thought that you'd have noticed by now that I'm not good with words." He hides his face on his hands and breathe his air out with some difficulty. "Thank you for bringing me back."

I laugh without joy. I'm mocking him. "Do you honestly think that's the problem? That I need your recognition, somehow? We save each other's lives countless times, we're a team. You taught me that much and now somehow you seem to forget it?" He opens his arms in the air, silently asking 'what do you expect of me, then, what are we talking about here?'. "You wanted to  **stay**  there."

It's his turn to mock me now with one of his smirks. He approaches me and looks down to my face as I'm looking at the stars again. He stays where he is, just looking at me, and I feel like he's pressuring me somehow. But I'm wrong and I find it out when he states "I like seeing you like this." I turn my neck so I can look at him in the eyes and my gaze drops to his lips and back to his eyes again. "Like what?" we repeat our previous words, differently, now. "With your eyes reflecting the stars."

How can he break my walls so easily? I'm not mad at him anymore, and it takes, what, a minute simply because he smirks once more. But he gets serious again and says. "I thought I was going to stay there forever, you know, and I'm not going to throw you the I-am-a-male excuse. But I needed Laira's support. I never felt like home but that was closest to..."

"You don't need to explain anything to me, sir."

"I'm not." he smiles. "OK, so maybe this is my lame attempt to tell you I'm sorry. Is it working?" I'm the one who smiles now, almost childish. "I dig that damn ground every single day to reach the gate. I never gave up on you... all of you. That was why I had to get up every morning, to get back faster, and eventually -yes- I lost hope. But you're better that I am and got me back quicker that I'd have."

We turn to the bonfire, trying to scape from the cold wind. His hand, once more, are close enough to touch my hand. I look back to see if anyone is watching us. But, no. They're too far and too busy going on with their lives, dancing, having some fun.

"So, we're cool, right?"

He asks me, staring at the flames, and all I can do is to reach out for his hand. Touching, but not quite holding. Millimeters apart. My middle finger teases the palm of his hands and, seconds later, he's doing the same with mine. Over and over again. He looks down at our fingers mingled together and smiles. "I get that as 'yes'?" I give him an honest laugh and, of course, he moves his head towards our joined hands and stays, matter-of-factly: "This is close enough to insubordination, you know?"

I smile, my cheeks burning from embarrassment, but I can't take my hand back and I know he wouldn't leave it anyway.

"Gotta love bonfires."

"Yes." I whisper and tease him by saying: "To be more precise, sir, we're witnessing a combustion. It's a complex sequence of exothermic chemical reactions between a fuel and an oxidant accompanied by the production of heat..."

"Carter?" he says, annoyed.

"Yes, sir?" I answer, smiling already.

"Shut up, will ya?"

I'm not the only one who's playing with fire here. The Colonel looks back, as I did before, to see if anyone's watching us, I presume. And right after that, his hand embraces mine in a smooth caress, in a way that anyone who doesn't know him enough would never imagine it as possible.

So I understand now that the problem of lighting a fire, of giving in, of enjoying it's warmth and taking an unsure step isn't the emotions that it brings. It's the afterwards, it's all about the smoke that will come up and surround you and make you lose control.

Among all of the things that scare me, the one that stops me on my tracks is the damn smoke that will evade my eyes if I allow my heart to burn with love. And I'm not talking about the fire burning because I let my guard down or simply because its an natural and unstoppable invasion, nor because of a neglection of mine. No. What I'm afraid of is to let it burn because I allowed it, because I wanted it.

Like I want him now.

But I'm guessing that probably this is not the best time to go for it, to let everything burn, no matter how tempting it is. Even so, I'm sure the day will come and, even if it didn't, moments like these make me think that this is all that matters. Maybe not getting burned, but staying warm.

All my life I thought that it was safer to chose the sameness to having to face the smoke that blinds people, to never know what things could appear next, just out of the blue. All my life, really. But not now.

Not anymore.


End file.
